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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320104">Naive Melody</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleZombie/pseuds/SparkleZombie'>SparkleZombie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>GHOST (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Copia is NOT Imperator and Nihil’s child in this, Eventual Papa Nihil/Sister Imperator, Gen, I do not subscribe to that particular headcanon, Original Character(s), headcanons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:42:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleZombie/pseuds/SparkleZombie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Ghost fanfic based around the events of the “Dance Macabre” video.<br/>Dialogue has been changed to reflect modern speech because I can’t write all them “thous” and “thines.” I’m not sure when this takes place- maybe the late 70s… 1870s that is.<br/>Originally posted to my Tumblr on 17 October 2018.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Papa Emeritus Zero | Papa Emeritus Nihil/Sister Imperator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. This Must Be the Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vergil grabbed his friend’s shoulder. “I found out about a party tonight, D. We should check it out. Party on Halloween night? It’ll get wild!”</p><p>The aforementioned D shrugged his friend’s hand off his shoulder.</p><p>“You know I’m not big on parties. Besides, I got work tomorrow, Verg. I can’t be following you around looking for some supposed party.”</p><p>Vergil persisted. He moved in front of the taller man and grabbed both his bony shoulders with a determination that veered on scary. “D-man, you need this. I know you’re still choked up about your mom.” Vergil’s expression softened. “You need to get out of your head a while, take in some sights.”</p><p>The taller man ran a hand through his short dark hair and sighed. His mother had passed away months ago, and it still hung over him like a miasma. She had tried to tell him something as she passed. She had gripped his hand tightly and said “The church…” And that was it. She was gone.</p><p>At her funeral he asked the priest if he knew what his mother could have meant. The priest shook his head. “Your mother had been through a lot in her life, alone, raising a son without a man in the house… The church was as accomadating to her, and to you, as we could be. Perhaps she was expressing feelings of gratitude for us.”</p><p>The orphaned son did not buy that.</p><p>“Okay,” he said finally. “Someone should be around to make sure you don’t get yourself killed, anyway.”</p><p>***</p><p>They walked. “Where we’re going, we don’t need horses” Vergil had declared. D was silently seething. Not only were they crashing, seemingly aimlessly, through unmarked territory, they were also wearing their Sunday best, because Vergil thought “the party might be a classy affair, after all, it’s way the fuck away from our shitty village.”</p><p>A thorny vine tore D’s sleeve and he finally stopped. “Vergil, we’re fucking lost. And we’re ruining our suits. Let’s turn back while there’s still some light out. before the cold sets in.”</p><p>“No way, man!” Vergil trudged on. “If we miss this, we’re gonna regret it.”</p><p>“I already regret it.”</p><p>“C’mon man, it can’t be-“ Vergil disappeared from view. D clenched and unclenched his fists. If this party exists, he thought, they had better have some booze.</p><p>“DUDE.”</p><p>D knew that tone. That was Vergil’s “come check this out before it kills me” tone. He clambered through the thicket and trees and ran right into Vergil’s back. He was standing still, right at the edge of the forest. D stood beside him and looked where he was looking.</p><p>“Dude,” he agreed.</p><p>An impeccable grass lawn spread out before them. A gravel path led to an elaborate fountain. The lawn was lined with tall lamps, bright with flames. At the end of the gravel path opulent building towered above all, like a marble tombstone in the night. Candles lined every visible window, giving the whole front of the building an eerie glow. What sort of building was this? The towers were dark, but D could make out a symbol atop them. Was this a church? Horses were tied to hitching posts on a side lawn. Carriages were parked nearby. D wanted to ask where are the roads, we’re in the middle of the woods, but instead he walked wordlessly to the building, drawn in like a moth to those many dancing flames.</p><p>Vergil climbed the steps to the massive doors and waited for D to catch up. Without a word between them, Vergil knocked on the door.</p><p>The minute between the knock and the door creaking open stretched on for eons.</p><p>A pale man with soot around his eyes opened the door, just barely. “Yes?”</p><p>Vergil stood up straight and smiled. “We’re here for the party!”</p><p>The door man stared at him, unblinking. “No.”</p><p>Vergil looked to the horses and carriages, then back to the door. “The… party?”</p><p>The door man moved to close the door. But he stopped. He looked at D, who had been staring to the side, trying to look through the window. The shapes moving just beyond it looked so strange, but familiar.</p><p>“Oh, yes! The party!” The door man opened the door wide and beckoned the young men in. The music, which had been dripping out through the crack in the door, now flowed freely, and the young men on the porch were pulled into the undertow.</p><p>D followed Vergil. The door man stared at him. Unblinking.</p><p>“We’ve been expecting you.”</p><p>Vergil pumped his fist in celebration. “Right on! C’mon D-man, let’s get out drink on!”</p><p>D found himself moving stiffly though the main room, trying to take it all in. The building was far bigger than anything in his village. Candles stood proudly on tables lined with heaps of delicious-smelling food and colourful drink. A chandelier of crystal and metal hung overhead, entirely lined in candles. A band was set up on a grand flight of stairs, playing alien sounds that made D want to dance in the moonlight. The band members were masked, and the people around him were costumed- wearing masks or elaborate makeup or scandalously little clothing, paints covering their exposed skin. A woman with a witch’s hat winked at him and handed him a drink in a crystal glass. A man wearing some sort of animal horns handed him a black plate piled with sweets.</p><p>D forgot about Vergil. He found a place to sit and happily imbibed the offerings, overwhelmed with the warmth and sweetness. In one plate he was consuming more cake than he had had in his entire life. It was decadent and sinful and he was not afraid.</p><p>He finished his cake and looked around, suddenly nervous about the lack of apparent waiters or house help. A woman in a cloak of feathers smiled at him and waved him away, as if to say, go and have fun, don’t worry. D nodded his thanks and wandered deeper into the party.</p><p>A woman in black was sitting on a fainting sofa, drink in hand. Her eyes were lined with soot, and it seemed to illuminate them, turn them into hot embers. Her long blond hair was pulled tightly back into a tail that fell like spun gold down her exposed back.</p><p>She turned her gaze to D and he felt himself burning from the inside out.</p><p>He was drawn to her. He approached her. She stood, smiling at him as though she had been hoping he would arrive.</p><p>“Forgive me for being so forward, miss, but I- would you care to dance?”</p><p>The woman handed her drink to a man with moth wings.</p><p>“I would love to.”</p><p>D took her hand. Her nails glistened with red. He pulled her close. She smelled like ashes and lavender. If she was a witch, he had fallen under her spell, and he would gladly serve her for eternity.</p><p>They moved together effortlessly. “I’m sorry, I only know the waltz” D said sheepishly. The woman smiled warmly. “That’s quite alright. You’ll learn other dances.”</p><p>The band was playing something he did not know, something that felt ancient and hypnotic. D stared into the woman’s eyes. The rest of the party melted away. All that existed, all that mattered, was them.</p><p>“What’s your name?”</p><p>“Imperator.”</p><p>D chuckled. “What if I told you mine was ‘Emeritus’?” He shook his head. “It’s not. My name is Damien.”</p><p>Imperator nodded. “I know.”</p><p>Damien faltered in his steps, but Imperator righted their course.</p><p>“This party, this manor, these people… It’s all for you, Damien.”</p><p>The music ended and the band left their instruments to find refreshments. Damien reluctantly let go of Imperator and took a small step back.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Imperator took him by the hand and led him back to the sofa. “This is a church. Your father is the leader. The party guests here are the clergy. And I am a Sister.”</p><p>Damien did not feel afraid. He was surprised at how … normal he felt. “Mother tried to tell me something about a church before she passed… She must have been referring to this one.”</p><p>Sister Imperator gave the back of Damien’s hand a gentle stroke with her thumb. “She was a devout member here, dearly loved. When she found she was pregnant, she and your father started to worry about how best to raise a child. She was determined to give you a normal life. But…” She gave his hand a squeeze. “A stray always comes home to his flock.”</p><p>Damien looked around at the grand room. The party goers were still mingling, dancing, eating, touching, drinking, kissing. The band had started up again. None of this felt wrong. Damien felt as though a secret chapter in the book of his life had just been opened, and he was hungry to read it all.</p><p>“Can I meet my father, Sister?”</p><p>Sister Imperator smiled and touched Damien’s face with her free hand. Then she moved her other hand, and framed Damien’s face.<br/>

“You will, and you will learn your destiny.”</p><p>She pressed her lips to his. Somewhere, bells chimed.</p><p>Damien was home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. And You’re Standing Here Beside Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the son returns home. Still set in the 1870s maybe. Now featuring a completely original character because I needed a bridge between lore snippets.</p><p>Originally posted to my Tumblr 24 October 2018.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sister Imperator sat with Damien as the party continued. She was fascinated by him; this boy, this young man of unholy blood, raised completely divorced from the church… He was shy, but assertive, a gentle spirit brimming with charisma. He had his father’s profile, and he was hungry with curiousity. “I feel like I belong here” he had told her. “And I feel like I belong with you, if I may be so bold, Sister.”</p><p>She did not object to this.</p><p>Eventually the night ended, as do all things. The strange party goers said their goodbyes and left to find their horses and carriages. Those who remained never removed their devilish masks. They spread out across the grand room, beginning to clean up the discarded dishes and drinkware and scrape up the spent candle wax.</p><p>“Come, Damien” Sister Imperator said gently, pulling the young man up from the sofa. “Let’s talk to your father.”</p><p>***</p><p>Sister Imperator led him by the hand up the flight of stairs and into a long, tall hallway lined with stained glass windows to the left and doors to the right. A glimmer of morning light seeped through the windows, splashing fragments of painted light on the wall. She moved confidently, and stopped at an ajar door.</p><p>“Papa?” she said gently, “Papa, I’ve brought him to meet you.”</p><p>There was a sound of fabric rustling and a mutter of “well don’t just stand in the hall my dear” and the door flew open.</p><p>Damien stared. An older man, taller than him, stood before them. His head was shaved, his face dressed to be a gruesome skeletal visage, his left eye bone white, and he was dressed in deep red robes with brilliant gold embellishments. He smiled, and Damien was not afraid.</p><p>The man tightly embraced him. “My son, my dear boy, at last we meet.” He drew back but kept his hands, adorned in strange rings, on Damien’s shoulders, assessing him with pride. “You have your mother’s eyes. Kind, with a glint of mischief.”</p><p>Sister Imperator cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should continue in your office, Papa?”</p><p>The older man nodded. “Quite right, my dear.” He turned and started back inside. “Come along you two, talking with long-lost family goes better when you’re able to sit down.”</p><p>The office walls were crammed with dark wooden bookcases filled to the brim with books and glass containers of things Damien could not- but wanted to- identify and tapestries depicting strange creatures and symbols. The floor was an uneven plane of rugs and furs, placed with no consideration of space or aesthetic. The room smelled of old parchment and wet earth. Toward the back wall was a massive dark wood desk littered with paper and ink wells and quills and candles burning bright. A skull hung on the wall behind it all, and a goat head mask sat on the floor beside the desk. Damien stared at the mask; he had seen someone at the party wearing it. His father had been there the whole time, observing, a silent master of ceremony.</p><p>The older man took his place behind the desk in an ornately carved chair and gestured for the young people to sit in the simple, but upholstered, chairs before the desk.</p><p>“So, my son…” The older man tilted his head slightly to the side, owlish. “What name did your mother give you?”</p><p>“Uh, Damien,” Damien said quietly, still taking everything in. The man chuckled and sighed.</p><p>“We had floated that name, yes. Damien if it’s a boy, Lilith if it’s a girl.” He closed his eyes, a warm smile gracing his pallid face. “She would talk to you, ask you which name you’d prefer, tell you you could pick your own if you were unsatisfied with our choice…” He opened his eyes. “How is your mother, Damien?”</p><p>Damien chewed his lower lip. “She passed away, a few months ago.”</p><p>“It was peaceful,” Damien offered. “She slipped away while talking to me, like she had just fallen asleep mid sentence…” He bowed his head. The last thing she had said was ‘the church,’ and now, months later, he was in it. He was in the mysterious church, sitting next to a beautiful woman, and talking to his father.</p><p>Sister Imperator placed her hand on his and gave him a reassuring smile. She looked to the man at the desk. He had been still since hearing the news. His painted cheeks were damp with tears.</p><p>“Papa, perhaps some answers now? Damien surely has questions.”</p><p>The young man sat up a little straighter. He had many questions buzzing in his skull. “I do, actually. A lot. Like-“ he glanced at Sister Imperator. “Why do you keep calling him ‘Papa’? Is he your father as well? I really like you, but I don’t think that’s okay…”</p><p>The man, Papa, laughed and wiped the tears away with a long sleeve, his heartache shoved out of his mind for the moment. “Lord, no! ‘Papa’ is my title, son!” Damien let out a sigh of relief and winked at Sister Imperator.</p><p>“Actually,” Papa continued, “my full title is Papa Invictus the Fourth. My father was Papa Invictus the Third, my father’s father was Invictus the Second, my father’s father’s father was Invictus the First, my father’s father’s father’s father-“</p><p>“Had a different title?” Damien offered. Papa chuckled.</p><p>“No, he was Papa Invictus Nihil. Invictus Zero. In the church, when a new Papa ascends, he may continue the title from the Papa before him, or he may reset, so to speak. And here, we start with zero. Or Nihil, as it sounds cooler.” Papa nodded to himself. “Sometimes I wish I had chosen to be a Nihil, but, the whims of the Lord are not to be questioned.”</p><p>Damien leaned in. “Right, about that. What /is/ this church, exactly? Mother and I went to the church in the village, more out of societal obligation than anything else, and it was just tedious. Repetition. Retelling the same ley stories. Frankly it was dull compared to what I’ve seen here.”</p><p>“You haven’t seen anything yet” Sister Imperator said cheerfully.</p><p>Papa stood and spread his arms, the gold of his robes glinting in the candlelight, his shadow eeriely matching up with the skull hanging on the wall behind him. He drew in a deep breath, and his voice filled the room.</p><p>“This is a Church of Satan, my son! We follow and worship the Dark Lord, spreading His word, sharing His message!”</p><p>Damien looked to Sister Imperator, then back to Papa.</p><p>Papa faltered. “Eh, I used to have an office with a window, and if I timed it right, you know, lightning, drama- eh, forget it.” He huffed and sat back down. “Someday the church will be as theatrical as it surely demands to be. Perhaps you will be the one to see this happen, Damien.”</p><p>Sister Imperator giggled and clapped. Damien looked bewildered. He glanced between the two. “What does that mean? Does that mean what I think it means?” He ran a hand through his hair. “What do I think that means?”</p><p>Papa leaned forward, excitement gleaning in his mismatched eyes. “I would dearly love to have you stay here, my son, and learn your family history. Learn and grow in the church, and, when I am called home…”</p><p>You will be the next Papa,” Sister Imperator said quietly, revenently.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Make It Up As We Go Along</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An aptly-named chapter, as it is about ninety-five percent headcanon. More original characters are introduced.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Papa Invictus the Fourth was an intimidating presence. Even after being formally introduced to his estranged father, Damien still found himself quaking with apprehension when the man spoke. Papa Invictus was old, but not frail, with broad shoulders and long, strong limbs. He never seemed to go without the face paint that made him look like a skeleton. His thin fingers were so heavily adorned in gem-studded rings that Damien could hear soft ‘clink’ sounds every time Papa Invictus moved his hands. He walked with an air of assuredness and importance and self-confidence. His voice seemed made to give sermons; it boomed from him as if a thunderstorm dwelled in his chest. But for all the daunting mystique of his grand and serious stature, his smile was warm and genuine and Damien felt like they had known one another for years.</p><p>It had been a week since Damien returned home. Two days prior, Invictus easily lifted the young man above his mitre-adorned head and declared to the congregation of the church, “my son has come home!”</p><p>Damien had never been lifted by anyone, let alone a father. His father. Damien ginned and waved to the applauding black-clad worshippers once his father let him stand again. Invictus gave him a hearty pat on the back which sent him stumbling, briefly. He caught Sister Imperator smiling from a pew and suddenly felt embarrassed. He found himself looking at the stage floor, only half-listening to the sermon of Papa Invictus the Fourth.</p><p>Damien paced the room in which he had been sleeping for the past week. His father had promised more surprises were coming, but that all good things take time. But a week? Damien had been used to waiting back in the village, but here, this church- it felt alive, somehow. There was always something happening, screams and laughter both echoing off the high stone walls, silent masked people dusting or hanging tapestries or cleaning windows, smells of incense and cooked meats wafting in and out of rooms, music drifting around in the wee hours of the morning... Damien found himself wondering why God had all the praise when it was clearly the Devil who had livelier churches.</p><p>There was a soft knock on the door and Damien opened it swiftly, expecting his father and Sister Imperator to be there to lead him to the day’s activities. He had been taken on long walks around the grounds and shown the garden and library, as well as the building site for the dormitories for future bishops and sisters. Today he hoped they would show him the farm, so he could show off his animal tending skills.</p><p>“It’s about time you- are not my father.”</p><p>The figure that had knocked was one of the mask-wearers. They seemed to be staff, as they were everywhere and all wore the same simple black alb and dull, featureless mask. None of them seemed to talk, which was fine with Damien. Less names to remember.</p><p>The mask-wearer stretched it’s right arm out in front and moved it’s gloved fingers in a beckoning motion, then turned and began to walk briskly down the hall. The estranged son nodded. “Okay, you’re taking me on a tour today?” He jogged after his escort. “Gonna show me where you took your vow of silence?”</p><p>/I TOOK NO SUCH VOW. I MERELY CHOOSE TO AVOID COMMUNICATION./</p><p>Damien stumbled. The voice... it was in his head. He heard it inside his brain. “How- what...”</p><p>The masked person turned on it’s heel and stalked back to Damien. It’s eyes were glittering black and wide behind the mask.</p><p>/THIS, THIS IS WHY WE DO NOT SPEAK TO YOU, SON OF PAPA. THOSE WHO ARE NEW TEND TO REACT POORLY./ It bent and took Damien’s hand, resorting to dragging the bewildered young man down several winding stairways to the underground cavern.</p><p>Damien had regained enough of his senses to be in awe. To assume this place was simply ‘storage’ because of the casks of wine and shelves of wrapped cheeses and hanging dried meats and barrels of spices and herbs and assorted bones was to do a disservice to the space. Past the large store of foods and drink, there was a huge, dark space- even in the dim light of scattered candles Damien could tell his entire village could have fit within with room to spare. He was led by the wrist to a central point, where Sister Imperator and his father were waiting. Sister Imperator opened a large book she had been holding. Invictus lit more candles and raised a painted eyebrow at the masked one.</p><p>“My son couldn’t get here of his own accord,” he asked, gesturing to the gripped wrist, rings clinking. The masked one let go of Damien’s wrist; his arm flopped limply to his side.</p><p>/I ACCIDENTALLY SPOKE TO HIM AND IT SHORT-CIRCUITED HIS MIND./</p><p>Sister Imperator snickered and Papa Invictus laughed. “That’ll do it, won’t it?” He shook his head and gave his son a hearty shake of the shoulder. “They don’t talk like you and me, son. It’s all in your head, quite literally.”</p><p>Damien shook his head and looked up into his father’s mismatched eyes. He could have sworn the left eye was glowing. “They?”</p><p>Papa Invictus grinned broadly. “The ghouls!”</p><p>“Ghouls?”</p><p>The floor began to glow. Papa Invictus let out a delighted yelp and shooed everyone out of the glow. Once outside the glow Damien could see they had been standing in a massive pentagram hewn into the stone floor. The lines of the pentagram were glowing. Sister Imperator was smiling and watching the lights dance. Damien was watching Sister Imperator. The lights were beautiful, but they were mere flint sparks compared to her beauty.</p><p>The light pooled at the center of the pentagram. A hand shot up from the light. Damien yelled and stumbled backwards. His father laughed again, full and hearty, and steadied his son. They both watched, one in delight, one in apprehension, as a human-shaped, winged creature pulled itself up from the pentagram. The lights faded but the being remained. It spread long, bat-like wings and swished a long, thin tail.</p><p>“What the hell is that?!”</p><p>Sister Imperator grinned and chuckled, then cleared her throat and started writing in the book she was holding. Papa Invictus had the wild energy of a child eager to show his friend something he found in the woods. He ushered his son to follow him to the middle of the pentagram, holding a candelabra aloft. </p><p>Papa Invictus moved the candelabra around the still figure. It looked like a physical shadow, dark and human-sized and featureless, save for the wings, tail, and antler-like horns emerging from it’s forehead. </p><p>“This, my son, is a ghoul,” Papa Invictus declared. “They have been with the church since the very beginning. They are lowly demons, sent here from Hell itself to aid the church’s mission. They come to us without names for, eh, easy direction.” He handed his shocked son the candelabra and approached the ghoul.</p><p>“Hello, ghoul. Welcome to the church. You are ready to serve?”</p><p>/I AM HERE TO EXALT MY FATHER, HIM BELOW./</p><p>Damien reeled; more brain talk. Papa Invictus patted the ghoul’s head like a farmer greeting a particularly faithful plow horse. “Good, good. Glamour yourself and head upstairs, eh? The others will show you the ropes.” The ghoul nodded, and, without preamble, it’s non-human extremities vanished. Where once stood a ghoul now stood a masked human wearing a black alb. It bowed to Papa Invictus and took off for the stairs.</p><p>Damien whirled to look at his masked escort and pointed an accusing finger at it. “You-you’re one of- gh- you have horns?” The masked one looked to Papa Invictus. He nodded, and quite suddenly the masked person had large ram-like horns, long drooping hare-like ears, a twitching tail, and wings folded heavy against it’s back.</p><p>Damien squeaked.</p><p>/YOUR SON, PAPA- HE SEEMS SLOW TO GRASP CONCEPTS/ the ghoul thought to everyone in the cavern. Sister Imperator giggled and said “come now, Lead, he’s been here only a week. You remember how long it took me to stop being shocked by the glamour, right?” </p><p>She shut the book and handed it to Papa Invictus. “Another water ghoul. Third one this year, Papa.” Invictus ‘hmm’ed in thought. “Perhaps a message we need to reach beyond our shores...” he looked at his son, standing still in a state of shock. He sighed and turned to Imperator.</p><p>“Seestor, please take my son back upstairs, and Lead,” he addressed the ghoul, “you go to. Maybe Damien will warm up to the glamour if you stick around him a while, yes?”</p><p>/SHALL I SHOW HIM THAT WE ALSO WALK ON THE WALLS AND CEILING?/</p><p>Papa Invictus and Sister Imperator exchanged a look. </p><p>“Maybe in a few days.”</p>
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